Siberius (6 page)

             
She untied the knots, and in a moment Nick was free. He got to his knees, but again experienced nausea and a pounding headache.

“
Uh-oh,” he said, and then a halo of blackness surrounded his circle of vision and he fell backward. Talia lunged for him, managing to grab his coat before he could tumble over the side. She eased him back to the platform and poured him a cup of tea from the thermos.

“
Drink this,” she said.

Nick sipped, wishing it had vodka in it.

Talia looked him over. “You don’t seem to have any debilitating injuries other than the one on your forehead.”

             
“Don’t tell me you’re a doctor, too?”

             
“How do you feel? Inside, I mean? Does anything hurt?”

             
Nick thought about it for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “I feel like I went 12 rounds with Max Baer. Considering everything, though, I guess I feel pretty okay. Except for my noggin.”

“
Do you think you can walk?”

“
Depends on how far,” he said. She pulled the cup away in mid sip and tea dribbled down his chin. Grabbing the rope, she started for the ground. Nick sat up, leaning back on his elbows. “Where you going?”

“
Home,” she said, disappearing from view. Nick leaned over and watched her grow smaller in the tunnel of branches. “When you think you can walk, you can come with me. Otherwise, I’ll be back tomorrow.”

On the ground, Talia found the source of the crunching wood sounds: six feet up from the ground, two long gouges were cut into the tree trunk. Twelve inches apart and perfect in symmetry, they stretched the length like a ragged number 11. She ran her finger through the three-inch deep grooves and was taken by the smoothness of the cut. Scientific detachment faded, replaced by fear as she remembered just what the marks meant.

And then another sound caught her attention, this one high above her. She looked up and saw the American begin the climb down.

On the ground, Nick glanced up and saw just how high the platform was. “So you just threw me over your shoulder and scaled the trunk, huh?”

“
Something like that.” Talia sat on a log and tightened her boot laces.

“
How did you find me, anyway?”

“
Despite your earlier remark,” Talia said, standing up and brushing snow from her bottom. “Airplanes crashing in the taiga is not a growth industry. And they certainly are not quiet.”

Nick considered the evasiveness of his host and decided not to push it. “Guess not.”

They left the forest and trudged across the field Nick tried to land on the night before. In minutes, they came upon the stump that tore the plane’s port landing gear away. Talia made a quick study of the stump, observed the sheared wood and the spilled hydraulic fluid frozen over its surface. There was, in fact, a trail of hydraulic fluid cutting across the field to where the MiG had crashed.

To Nick, there was something more curious about the stump than the damage it had sustained from the collision. Tied to it were the antlers and severed head and neck of a bull caribou. Nick watched Talia pick frozen hydraulic fluid from the fur.

“Sorry about your bait,” he said.

She didn’t respond.

“It is bait, right? You hunting wolves?” Nick raised an eyebrow. “Or bears?”

Talia ignored him, looked out over the clearing to the opposite line of trees. He thought about prying a little more, but the reality was that Nick didn’t really care what she was hunting, It never occurred to him that she didn’t have a gun.

The snow was a foot deep, but to his aching body, it felt much deeper. On the surface, his injuries were light, but his body had taken a bashing and he felt bruised from head to toe. His head throbbed as if a mallet repeatedly whacked it. Blackness crept in every few moments. Worse, the lumberjack woman insisted on walking at top speed, and Nick found himself running just to keep up.

“
Jeez, lady, can you slow down a little?” He caught up with her, then fell back again. “How far away is it, anyway?”

Talia walked on, not looking back. “Five and two third miles.”

“What’s the name of the village?” Nick said. Thirty feet separated them now, and he had to yell to make himself heard. Yelling made his head hurt worse. She didn’t answer, and that angered him. “C’mon lady, have a heart-”

Talia heard the thud as Nick collapsed unconscious to the snow. She plodded back, annoyed and wishing she had left him in the wreck. He wasn’t what she had imagined; what, in fact, she had hoped. He was coarse, uneducated and probably an alcoholic. His one redeeming feature was that he was an American, and in the vast unpopulated Central Plateau, that was something Talia found most intriguing.

“Hey.” She kneeled down in the snow. “Wake up.” She turned him over onto his back and slapped his face. “Hey, hey.” No response. She stood up. “Damn it.”

Talia tied her scarf around the pilot’s hands, then pulled him across the snow like a sled. She looked up at the sun and realized it was late morning. Darkness was six hours away.

By mid-afternoon, the sun had vanished behind a low ceiling of gray clouds. Snow fell again as a light breeze whistled through the pine trees, slanting the flurry diagonally.

It had taken longer than normal for Talia to reach home. At the crest of a hill, she stopped and gazed down at a little valley clearing below. At the far end and near the tree line, a mound of snow as big as a single story house stood encircled by pine saplings.

Nick groaned and opened his eyes. He tried to scratch his face but found his hands tied. Flustered, he pulled at the scarf. “Lady, what is it with you and knots?” She went over and untied him without comment. He sat up. They were still in the woods. “Where are we?”

She wrapped up her scarf and started down toward the snow mound. “Home,” she said.

Nick looked around at the towering forest. “Where? I don’t see a village.” Ignoring him, Talia strode down the hill. Reluctantly, he got up and followed her into the valley. The crash had clouded his judgment. Why else would he blindly follow a woman he didn’t know?

“You live in an igloo, is that it?” said Nick as he spotted the piled snow and neatly planted pine saplings. “Gee, landscaped and everything.” She turned around and glared at him. He smiled. “Uh, any chance you got hot water? I could use a nice bath.”

“
Yes, you could,” she answered, then went behind the mound.

“
Yes, you could,” Nick mocked her. Reaching the mound, he trudged around to the far side and stopped. Embedded in the snow mound and flanked by the young pines was an open door. He went up to it, peering inside. “I’ll be damned,” he said.

The cabin wasn’t large by any means, perhaps 200 square feet. The roof was low, slanted down toward the back wall and held up by log posts stripped of bark. At one end was a kitchen area with storage shelves, a basin big enough to bathe in, and a wood burning stove. Opposite that was a large bed stacked with quilts and patchwork pillows. There was also a study area, complete with bookshelves stuffed with books and a modest table and chairs.

Most unusual were the layers of blankets covering the walls and ceiling. Even the floor was wall to wall blankets. The entire room was pin-drop quiet.

“
Not bad,” he said. Talia was already sitting in the chair and writing in a notebook. She was still wearing her parka and hood, but her boots were off. Light came from two oil-burning lamps, one on the table and one near the bed. There were no windows.

“
If you want to come in, close the door,” she said, not looking up from her writing. “And remove your boots.”

Nick turned to shut the door and for the first time noticed the walls. The logs were doubled up, making the walls at least three feet deep. The door was stout as well, the logs two layers thick, the hinges industrial-strength with two axes of motion. Nick closed the door, but it didn’t so much close as it did
seal
. He felt very claustrophobic. “Kind of a bank vault, huh?”

“
If you don’t like it, you’re free to leave.”

“
Thanks, no.” Nick untied his boots, then sat on the bed and lay down. “This feels great.”

Talia looked up from her writing and saw Nick’s body sprawled out. She couldn’t help but feel that she had made a mistake bringing him here. Why did she care what happened to this man? It was uncharacteristic of her.

“If you don’t mind, the floor is quite comfortable,” she said. His response was a chorus of snores.

7

             
Leaving the road two hours before, the convoy had spread out at the designated coordinates. When the forest had become too thick to drive through, Lieutenant Vukarin lead the soldiers out on foot, but maintained radio contact with Radchek and Barkov at the parked vehicles.

             
The falling snow had slowed to a light flurry. Inside the half-track, Barkov sat and sipped hot tea as if he were on a Sunday drive. Outside, Captain Radchek scanned the trees with a pair of binoculars. He had been there so long, the snow had begun to accumulate on his hat and shoulders.

             
With the binoculars pressed against his eyes, he panned his body along the trees, viewing them intermittently in and out of focus. On occasion, he’d come across a soldier sipping from a flask. It angered him at first, this drinking while on duty. But he couldn’t blame them. Staying warm in such conditions was every man’s priority. Forced from bed in the middle of the night, they had been whisked away into the Siberian unknown to search for an American spy who was most likely dead. Still, he’d make a quiet announcement once they returned to the barracks that drinking on duty was not acceptable. His main concern right now was the colonel. It was already afternoon and the men hadn’t rested or eaten. Barkov didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

Radchek thought he knew what the colonel was up to. He knew that the man didn’t like his post, and what’s more, he didn’t like any of the officers stationed there. On arrival, the colonel let it be known that he wasn’t there to make friends.

Along with Vukarin, Radchek had been assigned to bring Yenisey Radar Installation Number One on line. He liked the assignment from the start, as did Vukarin, with whom Radchek had been friends since boot camp. They served together at the Russian front and were to be part of the Allied invasion of Japan when the Americans dropped the atom bomb. Radchek was promoted to captain right after the war, and he found that commanding suited him. At Yenisey, he was in charge.

His command was less than a week old when Barkov was transferred.

Right now, that was all ancient history as far as Radchek was concerned. If Soviet high command wanted to station a colonel at a remote outpost, who was he to argue? Radchek’s immediate dilemma now was to tell the colonel the men needed food and rest. But what he really wanted to do was to return to the installation and radio in for a regiment specialized in recon.

Tucking away the binoculars, Radchek returned to the half-track and climbed inside. Barkov was still sipping tea, and to the captain’s astonishment, the colonel offered him some. “Thank you, sir” Radchek said, and drank. Barkov watched the woods through the windshield while the captain wrapped his hands around the warm metal cup. He struggled to tell the colonel what he was thinking, and in the end, just blurted it out.

“Colonel, the men need food,” he said. “And rest. They haven’t had either for 15 hours.”

“
There is a spy out there somewhere, captain.” Barkov sipped his tea. “He hasn’t had food or rest either.”

“
Sir, he may be dead.”

“
No, no,” said Barkov. “He isn’t dead.”

“
Nevertheless,” said Radchek, taking a deep breath. “At 1400 hours, I’m recalling the men for rest and a meal.”

He expected a fight, but the colonel didn’t offer one. Instead, he watched the snowfall through the windshield. Surprised, Radchek pulled his pocket watch and noted the time. In 15 minutes he would radio Vukarin to come in. Reaching for the door handle, he stopped at the sound of a sudden, discernible click. A
familiar
click. Radchek turned to see the barrel of a luger pointed at his face.

             
Barkov’s face had gone dark red, his eyes insane and monstrous. Radchek had never seen anyone look as inhuman as Barkov did at that moment.

“
Do you know what home is, captain?” he said with a devilish grin.

Radchek alternated looks from the colonel to the pistol. “Sir?” he said in a hushed voice.